


In Their Wake

by Merlin Missy (mtgat)



Category: The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle
Genre: F/M, Post-Book(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtgat/pseuds/Merlin%20Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Practical people were as rare as unicorns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Their Wake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeBibish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeBibish/gifts).



The world was always in need of many things. Unicorns had returned, the muddy remnants of their hoof prints startling travelers in their wake, and leading to odd, wondrous dreams for those who slept by the roads they made as they flowed from the sea. While unicorns were at last in great supply, one thing the world always lacked was practical people.

Schmendrick, with his sorry tricks, was ever in demand at carnivals and an evening's entertainment in the villages they passed through. Molly, with her sleeves rolled up and a determined face, did as she ever had, with the washing-up and the scrubbing, and the seeing-to of things. They made a good pair, charming and tidying, when they were between mad adventures. Obviously there were princesses who needed magicians to rescue them, and more young princes who needed proper scoldings. Together, they ripped the roots of the Serpent Tree free, tearing their poor hands to shreds, before teetering the balance of the Earth back into place. Some hero's doing, Molly said, and Schmendrick reluctantly agreed.

The honest work between sagas found her restful, healing the scars from the Great Tiger's bite before diving headfirst back into a daring escape. The easy brush and scrape of cloth to dish, of broom to floor, gave Molly something to do with her hands while listening to the children of the latest village laugh as Schmendrick dropped the eggs he juggled.

Yes, he was daft. Perhaps she was a bit daft as well.

She heard the hoofbeats in the distance. Her heart skipped, but she carefully set the last borrowed dish to dry before wiping her hands on her apron. By the time she stepped outside, she knew the sound for a horse, and had her fists balled against her hips. Schmendrick stood behind her as the rider, out of breath, explained he'd just come from the kingdom of Over-the-Dale, where the Queen lay in a perilous sleep brought on by....

Molly had already stopped listening, heading back inside to grab her light bag. Schmendrick stayed impatiently for the rest of the tale while Molly nudged the townspeople to cough up the single copper coin they'd promised the traveling beguiler and the woman who called him her husband. (Not that they needed the money. Molly liked ensuring the villagers were honest when they dealt with strangers. No use repeating what happened in the Village of Qum.) They begged her to stay. They usually did.

Then they were off, not hand-in-hand because they traveled faster this way, to see Over-the-Dale and wherever the wind beckoned after. The world needed practical people. They were, after all, as rare as unicorns.


End file.
